


Thaumaturge

by CorsetJinx



Category: Final Fantasy IV: The After Years, Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Reunions, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx





	Thaumaturge

He does not cross the veil with any particular hopes in mind. Simply a name, a mental image of a woman, and a whispering stone held tightly in his hand. As with all the other times he has crossed over the murmurs of the auracite rise in volume, nearly to a shout, but Theodore holds to his purpose and wades through the strange chill between planes of reality. Wiegraf had shared all the information that he knew of his sister's last location, up to the circumstances of her death.

Theodore thinks only of the woman named Milleuda Folles and steps out into the rain.

In his hand, the auracite tells him of the one he seeks. It tries to cajole him into saving her at the moment of her death at Ramza Beoulve's hands, but he hesitates.

He is not unfamiliar with death, but Milleuda's words have a sting to them. She dies alone, without her comrades, and by her own choice. He waits then, because Wiegraf admitted to searching for her body, then burying it before he was approached by the Church.

He waits until Wiegraf is gone, his features gaunt and eyes like a hollow man's. Loffrey Wodring tugs him along with his words, his eyes full of a peculiar light that Theodore does not like.

Once they pass, he sets to work.

Almost immediately, much to his surprise and displeasure, he is accosted.

"It is not enough to watch the procession of events that have nothing to do with you?" A voice snaps above his head. "You feel the need to desecrate the rest of the dead as well? _Back_ , churl, or I shall test whether you be made of flesh or not."

Lifting his head, mouth set into a frown, Theodore finds himself meeting the narrowed eyes of none other than the woman he has come to find. She glares down at him, admirably stalwart for one recently passed from the living. There is a solidity about her that he wonders at - almost as though she stood before him in the flesh.

She looks, to him, much as she must have in life - though he had only paid witness to her final moments. Her face was hard, lined still by stress and fatigue and worry. She still wore her armor, and proudly at that, though the leathers and scant mail looked as though they'd seen better days.

Perhaps it was normal for fresh spirits to cling on to how they looked in life. Or, perhaps, Milleuda possessed some manner of grit that went beyond the norm.

"You can see me." He says slowly, still kneeling by her grave.

"Aye. It would be hard to miss the giant slouching over me, even if it knows some magic that clouds the eyes of the living." If she had been in possession of a weapon, she likely would have levelled it at him by now. "What business do you have with me? Can't find a woman in whatever land you call home?"

Crystals, she had a sneer that would rankle most in a heartbeat.

Theodore allowed himself a moment to wonder if her brother could do the same, then decided that it didn't matter.

"I am here to help, if such can be done." He said slowly. "Your brother crossed the veil some time after his visit. He wishes to see you."

Her face hardened further, as if to hide whatever thoughts or feelings she had about such news. Her hands curled into fists - they shook, faintly, and Theodore pretended that he could not see it.

"We both just saw him." Her glare returned. "My brother lives, though it is not in the state I would wish for him. Do you mean to tell me that he falls? Do such tricks amuse you?"

 _Yes_ , the auracite whispered in his hand. _Once you played such games. Twisted the words and hearts of those around you to suit any whim. Why would this be any different?_

"No." He tells her firmly, if with a trace of weariness. "Your brother will walk his path to its conclusion, whatever that may hold for him. I am here because, in my world, he lives. And he desires to see you again."

Conflicting emotions crossed her face then - disbelief and concern, anger as well as hope.

"What proof do you have?" She asked guardedly. "Surely you do not expect me to believe only your word."

"He told me," Theodore said slowly, studying her, "that you were much too sharp to allow yourself to be trapped in a place you held no desire to be." Her eyes widened faintly at that, even as a brow jumped up her forehead. "It is no solid proof. I have none, but for my word. But tell me, do you wish to stay and moulder beneath the earth and watch a world you have no stake in?"

"I am free to _moulder_ where I _please_." She warned.

He only nodded, rain making his hair cling to his skin. "You are."

"How would you plan on taking me to whatever place you hail from? Do you intend to simply deliver my body as a corpse?"

"Not necessarily." He turned his attention to the sword marking her grave, studying it instead. "But it matters not if you chose to stay here."

Her only response was a frustrated noise. Other than that small admission of stress, she kept her calm well.

"Tears then," she scoffed. "The worms shall be denied a meal."

Looking at her again, he studied her expression for a moment before slowly nodding. Then he began his work.

-

Walking the veil between was more difficult when he had to bring another along on the venture. It did not help that the stone continued to whisper to him, even with his practice of tuning it out.

"The thing caterwauls like a babe." Milleuda remarked, keeping step with him as he carried her body. She was only a flicker now - a far cry from the near solid phantasm berating him for darkening her place of rest.

He'd done what he could to replace the dirt and fill up the grave as though something still occupied it. Mayhap the Wiegraf yet to become a templar would not notice.

"It does." He agrees placidly, steps even as he continued his trek. "You have some experience with children?"

Her answer came as an echo of a sharp laugh, humored despite its brittleness.

"Experience has taught me that men and women unused to war may as well act as babes are wont to do. They cry and complain, but they do their part." She snorted, reappearing on his left after a moment of flickering from sight. "I never gave thought to having one of my own. There were other things to do. Justice had to be brought to those who would have turned their backs and left us to rot."

"There are higher callings than justice," Theodore tells her softly, shifting her weight in his arms. "But you were not wrong in pursuing it."

"Ha!" She glanced at him, having to crane her head back to do it. "And what are you, then? No vagrant. You wear the beads of a dedicated monk, but there is magic in you."

The stone's voice suddenly grows quiet and Theodore takes that as the sign he has been waiting for. Ahead of them something shifts in the air - easy to dismiss as a form of mirage.

"I am a farmer." He says, pleased as the air begins to grow familiarly warm. "Little more."

"Lies." The last echo of her voice nips at his ears. "No farmer holds himself as you do."

-

He is no white mage, but even he knows that a body resting long in the ground is not fit for the use of phoenix down. Even if it were to work, Milleuda would not last long within such a terrible cage. And he has no desire to face the wrath of her brother, should things go awry. It is for the better, then, that no one knows where he goes.

The Lunar Whale thrums its greeting to him in a welcoming enough fashion. He briefly rests a hand against its hull, the dark metal cool from being submerged within the depths of the sea. With only a little bit of hope he opens one of the pods in the recovery chamber and settles Milleuda into it. He'd washed her body and found clothes for her, should she wake again.

Standing before the pod, he held out the auracite and prodded the power within it to wake.

 _What makes you think we will do this thing you ask?_ It's voice slithers through his mind, twisting and looping back on itself. _You have no right to believe yourself in command._

 _You are correct._ He tells it simply, tightening his hold. _But without one to act as your conduit you are merely stone. To dash you against the firmament would silence your voice for good - here, where none of your fellows may come to your aid._

The force within the stone recoiled from him as though struck, anger and resentment prodding back at him through their intangible connection.

He ignored it, directing the stone back to Milleuda. _You will do this thing. Not for me, but for the future she might have had, were the gods of Ivalice ever truly kind. Do this and you will not join her in that endless void._

 _A curse upon thee, bastard child of a lifeless moon._ The auracite hisses, crackling with magic.

Theodore chose to ignore that as well, watching closely as the discoloration began to fade from Milleuda's skin. It was a slow process, undoing the damage wrought by time and natural decay.

The stone darkened after a while, becoming sullen and quiet. He lowered his arm slowly, stepping closer to better examine the change within the pod. Though the glass was clear, it was difficult to see whether Milleuda breathed.

 _She lives._ The voice was weaker than before, though it still possessed an edge of resentment. _None of this will change what you have done._

"It does not have to." Theodore informed it as he returned the auracite to the pouch at his hip.

-

She felt heavy. As though each limb had been encased in stone and left to sink within a quagmire, slowly pulling her down into a deep blackness. Opening her eyes felt akin to attempting to ford a river with just her own body, but she managed it. Almost immediately she closed them again, pain lancing through her skull from the light around her.

Something foul lingered on her tongue, as though she'd thrown up and not bothered to rinse her mouth.

"You're awake." A voice remarked. She didn't recognize the low timbre or the accent, but it rang familiar.

Opening her eyes to narrow slits she tried to find him, though it was difficult to look towards the light.

"Your sight should recover soon." He said mildly. Something rustled. Something made of cloth, but she could not see it.

"w.. what.. magic have you.. worked?" She had to force the words out, tongue thick and weighty in her mouth. "A.. Am I... "

"You are no demon." He assured. A shadow fell over her and she drew her lips back instinctively, relaxing only a little when a damp cloth touched her forehead. "You are exactly as you were before you died."

She tried to scoff at that, managing only a faint noise in the back of her throat.

"There will be time to argue later." He said. "For now, rest."

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to fall back into that void. She didn't dream.

-

"I owe you my thanks for this." Milleuda adjusted the strap of her pack, balancing its weight better than he had expected. She'd tied her hair back to cope with the heat, twisting it up and away from the back of her neck. "Yet the question remains - what is your intent now that I am living and walking once more?"

"Home." Theodore answered simply, paying the merchant his due. The man bowed his thanks, wishing them a safe journey. He offered his purchase to Milleuda, finally turning his head to look at her.

She considered the sword thoughtfully before looking at him. Mistrust lingered in her eyes, though she reached for the sheath.

"Home? And what then?"

"You will be able to see your brother and decide from there." He watched her bind the weapon to her hip and set a hand on the pommel. A practiced move - one she had likely done time and time again before her death.

"I cannot say that I have ever known a man to do what you have and ask nothing in return." She frowned, brows pulling together as she considered him. "You even see fit to provide me a weapon."

Theodore quirked his mouth merely for the sake of doing it. "You would prefer to wander unarmed?"

"Are you so confident that I'll not turn it against you?" She challenged, gaze sharpening.

"You are welcome to try." He looked over her head, towards the crowded docks and then towards the low building that housed the path of the Devil's Road. "Though I would not suggest drawing steel in the middle of a town. Particularly one you are unfamiliar with and have no allies in."

Milleuda didn't smile, nor did she entirely relax her stance. "You are no farmer," she repeated. "I may believe your name to be as you claim it is, but I'll not so soon be convinced you are what you say."

"I am currently missing my home," he tells her softly, standing aside for a novice black mage to pass. "I'm concerned for my crops, though your brother has proven competent in tending them. Believe what you will, I cannot stop you. For now, I suggest we take our leave."

"Fair point." She conceded, stepping back to allow him room. "Lead on then. I don't think this Meecidia takes well to strangers."

"Mysidia." Theodore corrected placidly, ignoring the looks he inevitably drew as they started walking. "It isn't you that makes them uncomfortable."

-

Watching the siblings reunite was, in a manner, payment enough for the weeks of travel and trouble he'd underwent to see it done. Wiegraf and Milleuda clung to each other tightly for a moment, as though unspokenly terrified the other would simply vanish if one of them released their hold. He left through the open door then, closing it after himself and making his way to the garden.

The fence had been mended, during his absence. A handful of new green sprouts dared the surface, tender and delicate and defiant as they stretched towards the sun. He couldn't be sure what they were at first - but the tomatoes had grown nicely, almost ready to be taken off the vine.

He worked slowly but diligently, reacquainting himself with his garden bit by bit as he moved.

The sun had fallen partly behind the tree line when he heard the door open again, but he didn't look up. Soil clung to his fingertips and palms, turning his skin into a roadmap of whorls and ridges.

"Mayhap I was wrong," Milleuda mused, "and you are the farmer you claim to be. Shelling beans, is it?"

"In a bit, yes." He sat back and dusted off his hands, looking up at her with mild curiosity. A redness clung to her eyes, but he saw no tears. "Are you reconciled with your brother?"

She laid a hand against a fence post, contemplating it as she tried to compose an answer. "There is much to take in," she said at last. "I do not find it easy to make sense of it all, not as easy as I would like."

He waited.

"You have done my brother and myself a great kindness." Lifting her gaze, she met his stare resolutely. "I know not how we might ever repay you for it, nor even if we could try. But I thank you for doing all that you have, whatever your reasons."

Part of him wondered exactly what Wiegraf had told her and what he might have omitted, if anything. Rather than ask, Theodore slowly rose to his feet, sighing at the tightness of his shoulders and knees.

"You owe me nothing." When Milleuda looked as though she might speak he lifted a hand. "The life you have now is your own. Spend it as you see fit. That is the only thing I ask of you and your brother."

"You shall have to accept an extra set of hands to help with the evening chores and dinner, at least." She quirked her mouth as he had, faint, but there. "Though I admit that I am more used to making camp than anything else."

Theodore gestured for her to join him, leading her through the garden at a snail's pace to point out each plant and its name. She asked what questions she had about each one, keeping her words concise and without unnecessary flair. It was easy to see the lieutenant she had been.

He would figure out sleeping arrangements later, though he doubted the chocobos would mind if he joined them for a few nights.


End file.
